Memory of Water

Three years ago I moved from my old London town house up north to the countryside of the Peak District. It is only since the lockdown initiated by the Coronavirus however that I have truly discovered my new home. I would often go on walks on the weekends without maps, sticking to the well trodden paths. Recently I have felt the urge to go off the paths, stray into the wilderness, and discover the secrets hidden away from the eyes of man.

Someone once told me that even water has memory. Wandering through the old pine forests with nothing for company but birdsong and the bubbling of woodland streams and unearthing the overgrown ruins of generations past, I couldn’t help but wonder: What do you remember?